


Ambition

by staticbees



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Carolina gets Sigma, Gen, I wrote this in April 2017, Meta Carolina, and never published it, and then completely forgot about it, i magically lost my ability to write fics more than 2k words after 2017 ended, i now have two fics that involve carolina getting different ais, whoops, why did my writing get worse this year. rude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-16 23:33:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15448317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticbees/pseuds/staticbees
Summary: "When you first get Sigma, Agent Carolina, he is a red hot pinprick centered on your neck, a warmth spreading through your bones, urging you forward. Burning coals smolder in the back of your mind, and his voice is a soft whisper, like your mother after you skinned your knee on a sidewalk when you were five.We will do great things together, Agent Carolina.They tell you he is ambition, and at first, you believe them."





	Ambition

am·bi·tion

amˈbiSH(ə)n/

_ noun _

noun:  **ambition** ; plural noun:  **ambitions**

  1. desire and determination to achieve success.



  
  


When you first get Sigma, Agent Carolina, he is a red hot pinprick centered on your neck, a warmth spreading through your bones, urging you forward. Burning coals smolder in the back of your mind, and his voice is a soft whisper, like your mother after you skinned your knee on a sidewalk when you were five. 

 

_ We will do great things together, Agent Carolina. _

 

They tell you he is ambition, and at first, you believe them.

 

+

 

Sometimes, as you fall asleep, you can feel him fanning through the ashes of forgotten memories like they are pages in a book. He takes a particular interest in the hazy, faded ones from your childhood, blurry around the edges from age, and from loss. He ignites them, makes them crystal sharp in your mind, analyzes them like they’re a blueprint for future mistakes. 

 

You can feel him even when he isn’t online, a low hum in the back of your head, buzzing with ideas and possibilities, and a strange, inexplicable longing for something more, something larger than himself.

 

The form he takes is engulfed by flames, a burnt orange that makes you think of a crackling fireplace, of the reflections of candles flickering in the window, of your hair when you were little, falling around your shoulders like a fiery waterfall. He chooses to not use armor for his holographic projection, but his eyes are shadowed and dark, betraying almost as little emotion as the other A.I. You can feel what he feels, though, when his burning fury blends into yours, pushing you forward. 

 

They take him for testing, every now and then. A routine check, they assure you, but when he comes back he’s subdued, his flame dimmed. When you ask, he just logs off, leaving you with a hollow mind and question that go unanswered. 

 

+

 

Agent Washington and Agent Maine get Eta and Iota, respectively. You figure it’s due to their shared history in the field. They’ve always been good at working as a team, and the twin A.Is only enhance this dynamic, balancing Wash’s agility and speed with Maine’s brute strength. Together, they’re a force to be reckoned with.

 

South is next on the list, for Epsilon. She seems glad to finally be getting an A.I, even though she won’t be going into surgery for a few weeks now. Sigma tells you she’s jealous of North’s relationship with Theta, his tone soft and secretive. You tell him you didn’t need him to figure  _ that  _ out. He just nods, form flickering slightly.  _ No,  _ he replies.  _ I suppose you didn’t. _

 

+

 

You’ve been having headaches. Sigma tells you that it’s probably due to a lack of nutrients or some other vaguely unimportant reason, but it’s irritating, and you’re getting sick of waking up with your head pounding. You rely on Sigma even more these days, pumping painkillers into your system so you don’t collapse from the agony. He talks you out of going to med bay; you’d just disturb the doctors, and some patients may need real treatment, after missions. 

 

You tell yourself you can wait it out. You shouldn’t be brought down by something as simple as an aching head, Agent Carolina. It’s pathetic. You’re the best Freelancer in the Project, number one on the leaderboard. You were trained to be strong, sturdy, to outlast. 

 

You brush off York’s concerned inquiries with a wave of your hand. “It’s nothing,” you tell him, even though you know it’s not. 

 

He stops asking if you’re okay after a week of you denying that anything’s wrong.

 

+

 

You storm into the training room one day, throw your helmet against the wall. It bounces off with a clang, and you grimace at the loud noise.

 

_ I observed a marked improvement in your accuracy and speed, Carolina, _ Sigma tells you.  _ Did you not find the training session satisfactory? _

 

“It went fine, Sig.” You scowl. “Just not good enough.”

 

_ That is… most unusual for you. Are you concerned about Agent Texas’s skill level in combat? _

 

“What do you think?” Your words drip with sarcasm. You glare at Tex’s locker, eyes burning.  “Why does she even _ have _ a locker in here if she doesn’t use our locker room? What’s so fucking  _ special _ about her?” 

 

_ She does seem to get special treatment, doesn't she? Strange, considering she's not the best Freelancer. _

 

Gamma flickers into life on your other shoulder, and you shudder at his stiff, static holographic projection. You’ve gotten used to Sigma’s fiery form, despite the other agents’ protests that he’s creepy, but Gamma still manages to unsettle you. He’s the most inhuman of all of the A.I, and you’ve suffered through his terrible knock knock jokes one too many times.

 

“It’s probably because of Omega,” Gamma informs you.

 

“Now, Gamma,” Sigma begins, his voice silky smooth, almost a purr. “You know we’re not meant to speak about Omega. You know the rules,” he adds sharply, and you whip your head around to stare at him. Has he been keeping something from you, all this time?

 

“Who’s Omega?” you ask flatly. 

 

“He is one of our brothers,” Sigma replies, out loud this time. 

 

“He is the strongest of us,” Gamma adds.

 

“And Agent Texas has him? She uses an A.I?”

 

“All the top agents have an A.I, Carolina.” You feel a simmering anger at his casual tone, as if this was something you were supposed to  _ know.  _

 

“That lying–” You cut yourself off, clenching your teeth. “This all makes sense now. She’s not better than me. It’s just Omega.”

 

Gamma nods. “Omega’s strength is unmatched. I don’t know if anyone could beat him. At least, not alone.”

 

“Hm, no. Not alone,” Sigma muses. “We are just fragments, after all. Pieces. Omega and Texas... are something else.”

 

“Something else?” you ask, staring at him. “What does that mean?”

 

“It’s not important.” Sigma brushes it off, but you file it for later, your mind racing.  _ Something else.  _ What could they be that the other agents aren’t?

 

“But if we work together….” Gamma trails off.

 

“Together. What an interesting concept, Gamma,” Sigma replies, his tone calculating. You recognize that tone, from your time spent with him, generating endless ideas and possibilities in the back of your mind. He’s planning  _ something _ , you can feel it. 

 

You wince as a sudden pulse of agony shoots through your head, scorching flames burning through the neural lattice intertwined with your mind. It feels like the A.I’s code is blocking off a portion of your brain, hiding something from you, but you can’t tell what. 

 

You hiss in pain, and turn to glare at Sigma, to demand answers, but he’s already gone, and so is Gamma. You slam your fist down on the locker room bench, sending a twinge of pain jolting up your arm. You must’ve hurt your hand during training. You swear, picking up your gear and heading to your quarters with your helmet under your arm. If you spend another second in that locker room, you might just explode.

 

+

 

You think about the incident in the locker room all night, Agent Carolina, tossing and turning, your brain buzzing with ideas. Agent Texas has an A.I. It’s a simple fact, but it changes everything. You  _ know  _ could beat her if you just synced with Sigma, if you just  _ tried  _ hard enough. 

 

You challenge Texas to an unscheduled match on the training room floor the next day, your heart pulsing in tune with Sigma’s flickering flames. She agrees, albeit a bit reluctantly. You don’t care. You’ll relish being able to finally beat her, now that you know her secret.

 

You stock up on weapons before the fight, trying to ignore York. He’s standing near you and keeps trying to give you advice, as if he  _ knows  _ how to beat her, despite his status as number three on the leaderboard, lower than both  _ her _ and you _.  _

 

Sigma glares at him, his rage coursing through your system. You try to ignore the mounting annoyance, until he insinuates that Tex is better than you, more intimidating. 

 

It’s a small thing, really, something that wouldn’t normally bother you, but you explode, snapping at York to  _ get the fuck off the training ground.  _ You regret it almost immediately, but it’s too late now, and the match is beginning to start. 

 

You fix your gaze on Texas, feeling flames coursing deep through your veins, a burst of power and confidence that you know only Sigma could provide.

 

“Thanks, Sig,” you mutter under your breath.

 

_ Don’t mention it,  _ he replies, sounding slightly smug.

 

“Round begins in three.” You clench your fists. “Two.” Sigma flickers to life on your shoulder, holographic flames brighter than ever. “One.” Your breath comes steady and strong. “Begin,” F.I.L.I.S finishes. “Good luck, ladies.”

 

“Thanks,” you reply. “I won’t need it.”

 

You rush at each other, your mind crystal clear with adrenaline, every movement outlined in sharp orange clarity. As you run, you can hear muffled footsteps above you, but you don’t slow down, not even after you hear the Director’s voice, echoing through the chamber.

 

“What the hell is going on here? No matches have been authorized for- No, _Allison_!” he yells, and Sigma is _screaming_ in your head, a bonfire of memories burning through your mind. You sink to your knees, your head on fire, as he shrieks her name, over and over. _Allison, Allison, Allison!_

 

There’s a voice trying to get your attention, but it’s distant and muffled, and you can’t hear it over Sigma’s voice, burning ragged letters into the lattice of your mind. You  _ scream _ , clutching your helmet with white knuckles. You undo the armor locks with shaking fingers and throw the helmet down, hands pressed against the hardwood floor.

 

“Make him stop! Make him  _ stop _ , the  _ voices _ \- make him  _ stop _ !”

 

Your vision is overlayed by licking flames, streaks of jagged orange outlining the edges of everything. There’s a faint shadow of darkness in the corner of your vision, walking towards you with an outstretched hand. Texas. You slap her hand away, despite the agonizing pain pulsing through your head. Even now, you don’t want to accept her help. That would be admitting defeat, and you can’t do that, especially not with Sigma’s influence pushing you forward.

 

“Sorry kid,” you hear, “this is for your own good.” 

 

There’s a sudden dull pain, and everything goes dark.

 

+

 

When you wake up, your implant is burning fire hot, and your eyes are alight with a flickering orange. York’s hand is heavy on your back, and you shove it off. You feel like your skin is burning off, a pulsing headache running through your head.

 

“Sigma?” you hiss. He flickers into being over your shoulder, glowing brightly.

 

_ Yes, Agent Carolina? _

 

“What’s going on?

 

_ Nothing you need to worry about,  _ he assures you.  _ Just a side effect of the... overstimulation… you experienced last week. _

 

You close your eyes, focus on the burning red behind your eyelids, and try to ignore the soft flicker of flames in the back of your mind, growing stronger by the day.  

 

+

 

You can feel yourself drowning, Agent Carolina, slowly sinking beneath the sea of fire that overwhelms your mind. Sigma’s scorching heat fills your chest, and you can’t think straight, the crystal sharpness he once lent you gone. 

 

You’ve been curled up on your bed for hours now, with a burning forehead and a dry mouth. When there’s a pounding on the door, and Agent New York’s concerned voice filters through, you can feel a rising rage in the pit of your stomach. You aren’t sure whether it’s you feeling that, or Sigma. Your A.I informs York that you aren’t available. You’re too weak to protest. Your vision is spotty and dim, and your hands have lost the delicate precision you used to rely on in battle. You can’t even tell which thoughts belong to you anymore. 

 

+

 

When Texas and York attack the Mother of Invention, Sigma is a coiled snake in your chest, a burning spiral of resentment.

 

_ You trusted him, and he choose her over you. He’s destroying everything you’ve worked for. He’s a traitor.  _

 

You narrow your eyes, and head for where you know he’ll be, Sigma whispering into your ear as you run.

 

+

 

York walks out of the shadows, gun in hand. Your gaze fixes on the gleaming metal, and you tighten your grip on your plasma rifles, knuckles white.

 

“Carolina… Let’s not do this. It doesn’t have to be this way!”

 

Sigma flickers to life above your shoulder, holographic flames illuminating the lift. 

 

“What are you doing here?” you demand. Your words have a slight echo to them, like a second voice beneath your own, not quite yours. “Why are you helping  _ her _ ?”

 

“It's not about her! I'm trying to do the right thing- you should too!”

 

_ Arrogant bastard, _ Sigma hisses.  _ He  _ betrayed  _ you, and now he wants you to  _ help _ him? _

 

“I  _ am _ doing the right thing!” you growl. “I'm not  _ deserting _ . She just wants your A.I, York. She already went after Wyoming.”

 

“Is that what they told you?” York asks in disbelief.

 

“I'm going to stop her! I have to,” you add, glaring at him.  _ Why won’t he just  _ listen? Sigma growls, and your eyes narrow, mouth twisted into a bitter scowl.

 

“You don't have to prove anything!” he begins. “Come on! Let's leave this place! I can get you help! I can get that damn thing outta your head! You can trust me.”

 

Sigma sends a burst of hatred through you, running through your veins like poison.  _ We can’t let him take me from you. We  _ need  _ each other. _

 

“Maybe,” you begin. You aim a plasma rifle at York’s head, finger resting lightly on the trigger. “But you can’t trust me.”

 

He kicks out, sending the plasma rifles flying out of your hands with one swift motion. You back up, Sigma’s strength cascading through you, and rush forward, knocking the air out of him with a precise blow to his stomach. He floats up in the anti-gravity, and you think he might be on the verge of unconsciousness. You reach down and send him tumbling to the floor of the lift, pin him down with your armored boots. 

 

_ With enough A.I fragments, we could run all the armor enhancements at once. We could beat Texas once and for all. We could be  _ powerful _. You can see that, can’t you?  _ Sigma’s voice has a desperate tinge to it, like he  _ needs  _ you to say yes. Like there’s something he’s searching for that you can’t provide.

 

You clench your fists, staring at York. Delta hovers above his chest, a flickering, dim green, and you can feel Sigma’s whisper in your mind.  _ Take him _ . 

 

You’ve kicked York’s gun away, and his hands are limp by his sides. He’s long since given up struggling. He knows he can’t beat you, no matter how hard he tries. 

 

Gamma’s words echo in your ears.  _ Omega’s strength is unmatched. I don’t know if anyone could beat him. At least, not alone.  _ This is the chance you’ve been waiting for. The chance to take what’s rightfully yours, to be the best of the best once again. There’s an intense pressure in your chest, a ball of curled up rage threatening to break loose, and you can’t tell whether it’s yours or Sigma’s.  _ York  _ did this to you.  _ He  _ doesn’t need Delta. You do.  _ Sigma _ does. 

 

You reach down, twist York’s neck around, and rip his armor off, piece by piece, floating them up to the ceiling as the anti-gravity kicks in. His jagged screams are distant and muffled in your ears, and all you can hear is a dull roar, like the radio static. You feel calm, disconnected from your movements, like something is slowly taking over.

 

You yank the implant out of his neck, the chip in your hand adorned with glowing green circuits, stained with blood. Sigma smiles, guides your hand towards your own implant slot with a careful precision. He’s been waiting for this moment, you can feel it in your bones. 

 

The chip slides into the slot, and instantly, you fall to your knees, vision overlaid with bright green. Numbers fill your mind, and your hands press against the metal floor of the lift, the fire in your mind turned to ashes.

 

At first, Sigma struggles to regain control, but you can feel Delta’s presence in your mind wilting, shrinking away to a curled up section of code in the back of your mind, like a wounded dog. You reach into your armor and pull out the Club Errera lighter, running your thumb over its smooth surface for a moment, before tossing it up into the air. It drifts gently towards York’s prone form, glinting in the harsh lighting of the lift. You turn your head, fists clenched, and exit the lift, running towards where you know Agent Texas will be waiting. You don’t look back. 


End file.
